SRT #55

I got a wrong number this afternoon, and the guy on the other side was actually polite. New and different, I know. When it was clear that we did not know each other, he asked who I was, to which I responded, "Hey, man. You called me. Who are you." He laughed and said something that sounded like Brent.* It instantly became clear that this was, indeed, an error on his part. He promptly apologized, I said, "No problem," and all was well.

And then my phone rang within the next minute. Same number calling. I pick up again and inform him of his mistake. He apologizes and asks me to confirm the number he's been trying to call. It is, indeed, my number, but unfortunately, I am not who he wishes to speak to. He apologized again** and hung up.

This is really new and different for me. Usually wrong numbers are big jerks who somehow blame me for owning someone else's phone number, or they act as though I'm the one running around misdialing calls. I once spent five minutes on the phone going through this routine over and over:

Jerk: Who is this?
Me: You called me. Who is this?
Jerk: No. Who is THIS?
Me: I am the owner of this phone. Who is this?

I was much too stubborn to hang up and admit defeat. Clearly, the other person is a bigger jerk than I am. In any case, I hope this will become an ongoing trend. Strangers being polite to one another. Anything is possible.


* Perhaps Brad? Something with a "B."
** Again!

Ugh.

Rain on a good hair day. This sucks.

ADDENDUM: Of course the moment I am able to get out of the rain, it stops. Mother Nature is a jerk.

SRT #35

This song makes me wish I could sing. It almost makes me wish I still played the piano. Almost.

I'm Sorry. I Really Like Iguanas.

I left work at 5:15, and I've only gone nine miles. I'm getting pretty fucking sick of this.

Maybe God's mad at me for making fun of His kid's pet iguana.

I'm Super Productive

This is what I accomplished during the general staff meeting. I'm a valuable employee, no?

Smoke Free America

Note the cigarette burn right on the heart.

I've never really understood the point of banning smoking in public spaces. All it serves to do is marginalize a large portion of the population. And when it comes to bars, it's really just bad business. When it comes down to it, a bar is a private business, so the owners should be the ones who make the choice between smoke-free/smoker-friendly. I'm sure there are a good number of owners who would willingly designate their businesses to be smoke free; and I'm also sure that there are a good number who could not care less. Let the owners make the decision, not the government. As a smoker, I would probably end up in some smoke-free places given my circle of friends, and I wouldn't smoke in these places. However, I would also end up in places where it's perfectly fine to light up, and I would do so. Immediately. It's not really a bar without that familiar haze of smoke.

Dirty Mind

I've been told on many occasions that I have a dirty mind, and I admit that there are many instances where I see sexual references where there is none. For example, when people discuss how much they love to eat sushi, I can't help but giggle. This is especially funny when the sushi will be eaten on a date:

MY FRIEND: So I'm taking this girl out tonight. I think I want to have sushi for dinner tonight.
ME: *uncontrollable giggles* Sushi and vaginas are the same thing. You're having vaginas for dinner! *insert more giggling*
MY FRIEND: . . .dumbass. . .

I know it's childish/immature, but dammit, it's funny! The main problem with this aspect of my character is when something comes up in the workplace. For example, I've been assembling giant reference binders for a few days now, and I happened to find a new binder that still had its original insert (giggle) in the front:
Innocuous, isn't it? Just a picture of someone opening the binder rings. However, upon closer inspection, I found that this particular binder is made for whores:

"TRY ME! I'm Finger Friendly" Is that not an invitation to manual stimulation? I think it is. Look at that finger just casually pushing on the button. In addition to this, the binder is named Easy Open! Am I the only one who sees that not only is this binder aimed towards sluts, but manufactured by them as well?! After realizing all of these things, I could not stop laughing. This gets to be a problem, especially as I sit right in front of the elevator:

CO-WORKER: What’s so funny?
ME: *painful laughter* I…can’t…*snort*…sluts…binders…*more painful laughter*
CO-WORKER: . . .dumbass. . .

This inability to ignore even the slightest sexual innuendo will (most likely) be my downfall. But at least I’ll have a good laugh on the way down.*

*HA. It reads as if I’ll be going down on someone. Don't ever think that I would miss that.

January 23, 2006

Why are there flowers in January?! Mother Nature really needs to handle these hot flashes as it’s getting quite confusing for everyone involved. Do I need a jacket out today? And if so, a winter coat? A track jacket? Maybe a hoodie will suffice. Who the hell knows? Certainly not me.

Even the plants are confused:

Bush: Hey, it’s pretty warm out today. I think I’ll bloom.
::blooming ensues::
Bush: It’s pretty cold out today.
::dying ensues::

While I’m no fan of the cold, there’s no need to tease me with flashes of spring in the middle of January. That’s just mean.

SouthEast DC is not Finland

8th & C Street, SE

This is a shot of one of the streets by my job. It's kind of like a random haven of normalcy in the middle of SouthEast DC. But this isn't surprising, seeing as we are on Capitol Hill. Get yourself a couple blocks away, and you'll wish you had taken some negotiation classes in college.

Mugger: Gimme yo’ money! (pointing a gun in your face)
Helpless Fool: Uhhhh… the last mugger got my money. I don’t have anything.
M: Gimme yo’ cell phone!
HF: The first one got that.
M: What the fuck?! Gimme anythin’ you got on you!
HF: Oh man…I dunno. (rifling through pockets) I got some pocket lint…a sock, maybe? That other dude took my shoes…
Gun: Bang.

It’s strange though, the immediate area is quite nice, and there seem to be a large number of families living the area. You can’t go outside without seeing someone walking their dog (or their kid).

Speaking of kids, some lady left her kid outside in his stroller while she went into this café to grab a snack/lunch. So my co-worker and I were quite confused at first, and we waited outside to make sure some random homeless dude didn’t steal the kid so as to sell his organs on the black market. And then the mother comes out with her (undoubtedly) pretentious cup of coffee, probably a ventidoubleshoticed lattemachiattowithwhippedcream (And you gotta say it in one breath. It loses all dignity if you need to take a break in the middle of ordering it.)

Us: Is this your kid?
Mother: Yes.
Us: Why are you leaving him alone outside?
And the bitch says: They do it all the time in Europe.
Us: We’re in SouthEast DC!

And she walks away with a confused look on her face. We had no real follow-up to our SouthEast comment, seeing as that’s really explanation enough. In the murder capitol, this is the most crime ridden quadrant. All other directions are safer than southeast. Our only thought is (and we confirmed this immediately after she walked away): Bitch is crazy. No exclamation point. You don’t need one when stating fact. It was as obvious as saying, “We need oxygen to live.” I hope that kid grows up smarter than his mother.